The Colour of His Eyes
by UnobtainableMinds
Summary: Jean has lived in a monotonous world his entire life, until one day a stranger named Marco brings colour into it and Jean discovers the true beauty of the world he's grown so accustomed to. (Romantic fic with chapter-by-chapter updates, thanks for reading!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jean

Jean dropped his advanced chemistry textbook onto his bed sighing in frustration. His colourless bed sagging under his weight, he flopped down staring at the sterile white ceiling. Finals were coming soon and he had barely gotten through the first chapter of the assigned homework. Dropping the heavy textbook onto the grey, carpeted floor he sat up, glancing around his room in search of a more interesting activity. He found nothing and sulkily kicked aside a pile of discarded clothes, desperate for an excuse to not sort them out. The list of productive things he ought to do was piling up, while Jean remained more determined than ever to do precisely none of them.

Deciding not to withstand this monotonous dorm room any longer, he pulled on a pair of equally dull, grey shoes, he slipped out of the door and felt the autumn wind harshly whip his fringe across his face. There was a park nearby, and surely 'getting some fresh air' was productive enough? He strolled down the cracked, concrete path that led from his house, planning to waste as much time as possible before he was forced to return to his musty dorm room and resume his studies. Waterfalls of grey leaves cascaded around him, blending into the background of an equally bland city.

He reached the gates of the park: huge, black, iron structures that creaked almost painfully with the slightest movement. Jean walked into the lifeless park surrounded by trees hanging melancholically, their branches almost devoid of leaves and their roots covered by the masses of grey. He proceeded to head to the open plane that was located in the centre of the dreary park. He always had found it the nicest area and often headed there to think. The field was lined by garden beds of carefully tended flowers, just as nondescript as the rest of his surroundings, only drawing attention for a moment, but always failing to make a lasting impression. They were beautiful in comparison to the seemingly dead trees that he had passed earlier, he supposed. In addition the flowers, old, wooden benches were spread throughout the park, some already dilapidated. Jean trudged over to the nearest one and sat down heavily with a sigh. It was so tedious, this world where everything was monotonous and grey. His mind drifted to the stories he used to love to read, where a thing called colour existed. 'The water' he thought, his eyes flicking to the unused, moldy waterfall that was in the centre, 'was supposed to be blue.'

He stared, daze-like, at the old waterfall for quite some time. Until his vision was cut off by some freckled guy he'd never seen before. At first, he didn't take much note of him, but then, as he walked past the bench… something caught his eye. Colour. No, that couldn't be right... After a lifetime of being surrounded by endless shades of grey, why would a passing stranger have any effect on the way he saw the world? But… there had been a flash of colour, just before the guy had turned away, Jean was sure of it. The stranger's eyes, surrounded by slightly tousled black hair, deviated from the emotionless grey. They were a warm hazel, like a hot chocolate on a winter night. Jean shook his head again to clear it. There was no way, perhaps he'd just imagined it. Regardless, he stood up, his legs aching from the cold and cast his eyes around for the stranger. Spotting him, he strode over purposefully to the bench next to the one he previously occupied. He stopped a few meters short and simply watched him, as he sat there seemingly deep in thought with a warm smile playing on his lips. That is until he turned his head toward Jean and smiled brightly. Jean found the guy's eyes, sure enough they were that same, warm hazel. Marco cocked his head slightly, his radiant smile not faltering and patted the space next to him, in an invitation. Jean was shocked into action, apologies spilling out of him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, it's just…" He trailed off, unsure of himself.

Unfazed by Jean's flusteredness, the stranger chuckled amusedly and replied:

"No… I see it too." At this, he blushed, his freckled cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. Jean couldn't deny what he was seeing, another colour just as pleasant and beautiful as the last.

"Y-you see what?" Jean blurted out. Surely the other couldn't be seeing the same in him?

The stranger looked away suddenly, embarrassed.

"Ohh… never mind. It's just me then... I'm Marco, by the way." His smile emerged again at the end of his sentence, filling Jean with a feeling of happiness. He smiled in return, it had been a long time since he felt this much joy. Jean scratched the back of his head, struggling to come up with a conversation topic. His eyes unintentionally roamed over Marco, only now realising how attractive he was. Like, really goddamn attractive-Jean had dated a few boys in the past, but none of them had given him this same feeling of… belonging. He couldn't stop himself from staring into those eyes, those eyes that sparkled like Jean had just told the best joke in the world, like Marco was being tickled by life. And best of all, they were filled with dazzlingly bright colour. None of this helped him speak like an intelligent human being. Marco, who must've sensed Jean's discomfort, laughed lightly. Jean became more flustered at this and hastily blurted out,

" So do you come here often?" Oh wow, yeah, smooth. Marco giggled loudly and managed to answer between more fits of laughter.

"Not.. Ha… Really.. Haha." He practically gasped out. Jean mock frowned at him, the corners of his lips turning up regardless. He glanced down quickly at the silver wristwatch he always wore, cursing as he realised it was already 7. He looked up at Marco, with some regret in his eyes.

"Look I really have to go, but I'd love to meet you again so uh here's my phone number?" he told him, the pitch of his voice rising steadily towards the end. Marco grinned at him and Jean, who took this as a sign of approval, extended his phone with the number displayed on the screen. Marco, quickly pulling out his own android, typed in the number.

"Th-thanks!" Jean stuttered hurriedly, and put the phone away. He hesitated, wanting to say something more. He had to know if Marco had really meant what he'd said about 'seeing it too'.

He was blushing madly while trying to figure out what to say, before he was cut off. Marco was blushing adorably as he stood up, and began walking away. Then, as though he was getting something important off his chest he turned around quickly and quietly said with a shy smile,

"You don't know, but you have really beautiful eyes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi Everyone! Hope you're enjoying it! Please review! Criticism or praise, I'm happy to improve my writing. **

Chapter 2

By the time Jean had made his way home,the sun had hidden below the horizon and he was bitter with cold. The autumn air whipped his messy hair around his face, in a way that would normally piss him off to no end, but right now… nothing could have brought him down. Meeting Marco had turned his afternoon completely around, bringing colour to him in the most unexpected way. Jean was on top of the world, even though he could no longer see the warm hazel, or the light dusting of pink, the memory was vivid in his mind. The shy chuckles and bashful smiles were clear in his mind, filling him with a buoyant daze that he hadn't felt in years. Jean hadn't even begun to make sense of it all, the mysterious brown eyed boy who seemed completely at ease with his own flustered awe, and still grinned so that the cute smattering of freckles was scrunched up on his face. His eyes glanced down to the discarded phone that currently lay face down on his desk, he flipped it over reflexively, and stared at it willing for a message from Marco to come. He instantly regretted not getting the other's phone number. He sighed and picked up the slightly crumpled assignment (oops) he was working on, trying to distract himself. He stared blankly at the page, trying to contemplate whether it was possible to write an entire essay on the functions of the mitochondria within the cell in the space of an hour, so that he could just write it tomorrow morning and spend his evening doing… what exactly? He couldn't contact Marco, and most of his friends were 'studying' too. '_Well, anything's better than this...' _he thought, setting the hopelessly boring assignment aside on top of a heap of revision papers. His head hit the desk with a thump as he admitted defeat. The phone buzzed against the desk sending slight vibrations through it, as he shot up, grabbing for it. 'New message from Marco' was displayed on the bright screen. Although he would never admit it in the future, Jean did a victory dance, his fingers fumbling over each other on the screen, hastily trying to unlock it. After a few seconds of furious cursing as he attempted to get the stupid 7-letter password right for once in his life, he finally managed to unlock it and hastily scanned the message screen. It read: 'Hey Jean, today was nice (if a lil brief, haha). But I want to meet again. U free tomorrow? ;D -Marco'

Not caring about seeming too eager, he practically squealed while furiously typing his reply. It took several minutes for him to come out with something that seemed an acceptable balance of complete kouhai-ness and cool, no-big-deal vibes. Jean hit send before he could change his mind.

'Yeah that'd be great! What time? Uh, Today was fantastic, sorry I had to run. :)'  
'Sent 9:41pm'

Delivered 9:41pm'

He waited anxiously for Marco to get it, reading over it repeatedly mentally berating himself for sounding like an excited puppy. Was the smiley face really necessary? But Marco had sent one…

'Read 9:43'

He focused on the screen intently, the three dots torturing him. He glanced around the room trying to distract himself, his eyes falling to the screen every few seconds. Finally, the phone buzzed in his hand and he unconsciously jumped up from his bed where he had taken residue.

'New message from: Marco'.

'Um, is 12 okay? We could head to the Trost cafe and have lunch, if that's good with u.'

Jean's stomach suddenly dropped. He'd forgotten about that cafe. Ever since the last time he'd been there, he had sworn never to visit again. Trost cafe used to be the place he and his friends would meet, and wasn't actually that bad, until Eren started working there. Jean had first met Eren Jaeger at a house party, the kind where everyone's got papers they should be working on the next day and money borrowed from parents for cheap beers. Your typical college get-together. Only, that was the first time Jean had tried alcohol, and it didn't take long for him to get completely shit-faced… and in bed with none other than Eren himself. He still didn't know what happened exactly, but it certainly wasn't the most romantic of nights. After that, they both avoided each other as much as possible, shooting heated glares, forbidding the other to even mention it. They rarely saw each other after that, only occasionally seeing glimpses at parties and classes. Jean gradually learnt how to manage his alcohol, and to avoid that cafe as much as he could.

He bit his lip, realising that he still hadn't replied to Marco. He couldn't exactly turn him down on a first date… wait, was this even a date? Jean groaned in frustration. Gritting his teeth, he decided to go for it-Eren probably didn't even work there anymore, right?

'New message: To Marco:

'Sounds great. I'll see you then :D'

'Sent 9:47 PM'

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Whatever happened from here was outside his control, he just had to get some sleep now. After going to the bathroom, he lay on the bed and smiled. He couldn't help himself, the grin practically forced itself onto his face. He was truly happy, his mind wandering over the encounter with Marco today. How rapidly his mood had changed. His hazel eyes were still vivid in his memory and he took comfort in it, looking forward to when he would see them again tomorrow. Maybe see them change slightly as emotions flickered in them. He closed his eyes peacefully, the smile remaining on his face. But as he began to sink into sleep, worries plagued his mind. 'What if Marco decided he didn't want to see me again?' or 'What if the world went back to being monotonous and dull, what if everything was an illusion?' If he messed up tomorrow, and Marco ended up thinking he was some kind of weirdo… Jean cringed. He didn't exactly have much of a great track record with first dates. He could only hope that Marco knew what to do. That is, if this even was a date. There were so many things that could go wrong. He reached over to check the time on his phone, anticipating tomorrow. The bright screen blinded him and he cursed, squinting at the figures. 12:35. He was about to place the phone down, before he noticed something. The field of the grey monotonous flowers that served as his background picture remained, but to the side one rose, yet to bloom, stood crimson, like a promise of hope. Jean smiled at this, this promise that the world was not as dull as i seemed. He placed the phone back (only after checking the red tulip was still there numerous times) and rolled over, finally drifting to sleep.

In the way that bad dreams do, Jean's dream that night was filled with every single thing that could go wrong going wrong. He arrived for the date, only to discover Eren Jaeger there-sneering down upon him, about 50 feet tall, declaring loudly to everyone who could hear about their… incident together. When Marco arrived, he was covered with eerie blotches of green and blue, that blurred and shifted creepily. There was something about dream-Marco that made Jean want to throw up, and Eren was still laughing at him from up above. He foolishly tried to run, but of course this got him nowhere. Colours began to blur together in front of his vision, covering everything he saw in discordant shades dripping across everything he saw. Jean dove for a bus, to get away… and fell. Down, down, down… his stomach dropped and he yelled out loudly.

He woke up, drenched in sweat and shaking violently. He couldn't decide whether to cry or laugh hysterically, at the terrifying absurdness of it. The room was still dark, the sun far below the horizon, stars barely lighting the clouded sky. Jean steadied his breathing, as time passed the pure ridiculousness of the dream became more and more evident and he felt more at ease, Marco wouldn't turn up sporting some algae disease tomorrow. The cooling sweat on his skin felt extremely unpleasant and he was forced to change his clothes, after taking a cool shower. He returned to his bed, lightly laying down on it as far from sleep as possible. It was too early to get up… surely he'd be fine to just doze for a minute.

However, several hours later, Jean woke up with a sinking feeling in his chest. He jumped up suddenly, and sent a glare at his alarm clock. _11:30 AM. _30 minutes until his date. Which was at least 40 minutes away, if he walked. He cursed out loud, and began frantically pulling on clothes. Ordinarily, Jean would spend at least half an hour deciding on what to wear, but there was no time for that. Hoping that he looked vaguely presentable, he hurriedly brushed his teeth and ran a hand over his short, choppy hair. Nothing he could do about the mess that was. He ran out of the door with a quick glance at the mirror, not registering it. Slamming the door shut he jogged down the street, pushing past busy passers by, thankful for the chilly Autumn air that prevented him from sweating. Double gross. He glanced at the watch 11:54. Shit. Even if he sprinted he was at least 10 minutes away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Marco. The phone rang repeatedly, with no answer, until Marco's smooth voice played from the voicemail. He shoved the phone back into his pocket., sprinting to his destination, mindless of the looks strangers were giving him. There was nothing for it but to run- there was no bus route, and Marco wasn't answering his phone. _Please, please, don't be early._ he mentally begged his freckled date. Three blocks to go… 12:01… Two blocks to go… perhaps Marco would be late too, and he wouldn't mind… One block to go.. 12:04… And he was there. Jean gritted his teeth. No turning back now.


	3. Chapter 3

"So… Uh" Jean mumbled, thinking of a conversation topic. They had already exchanged the usual formalities and now he was stuck, in two ways actually. He couldn't for the life of him come up with a decent topic and being unable to look away from Marco's warm, hazel eyes didn't help. "You're not covered in seaweed" He finally burst out, before burying his face in his hands. "God.. I'm sorry..wow." He muttered out. He didn't dare look up at him again, and there was a horrifying silence in which Jean truly thought he'd blew it. Stupid bad dreams. But then… Marco laughed. Like, actually laughed, not at him, but an encouraging giggle. Jean had made him happy. Sure, Marco probably thought he was insane at this point, but maybe there was some sympathy in there too. First-date nerves.

As Jean was busy being bewitched by the literal music that was his date's laughter (date? friend? messiah?), he found himself forgetting to actually communicate, instead blushing like a schoolgirl (though he would never admit this to himself) in awe of the freckled boy's beauty as he stared up, ashamed that he couldn't even hold a conversation. He fiddled with his hands before pulling out his phone to check the time. 12:13. Barely any time had passed and he placed the phone down on the table, background lighting up. Marco looked over in amusement taking in the field of flowers and grinning.

"What beautiful flowers" Marco teased playfully, watching jean flush red again. Jean spluttered for a moment, before picking the screen up and brandishing it at Marco.

"Look" he mumbled, praying that Marco saw it. The freckled boy in front of him leaned closer peering at it, Jean's heart sank, he really didn't see anything and just as he was about to pull the phone back and apologise one more time, Marco leaned back and smiled at him.

"Red really is a beautiful colour, isn't it?"

Their eyes connected, and though Jean could still feel his cheeks burning, just for a moment, he felt like something inside him had fallen into place (omfg so cheesy let's change that later) when he looked into Marco's eyes. That hazel was the only colour that mattered, but wait, so was that gold, and that chestnut colour that just melts into the beautiful black of his iris. Even black seemed colourful to him, now he was with Marco. It wasn't awkward, nor particularly romantic. But all awkwardness and attempts at romance between the two fell away, with that one second. Jean tried to speak, but Marco shook his head knowingly, as if to say 'don't ruin the moment'. Maybe it was love, or maybe just some pretty colours-Jean didn't know how to tell.

"Jean! Always great to see you here" an obnoxious and too familiar voice rang out interrupting them. Eren had sauntered over, visibly gloating at this opportunity to mess up Jean's date.

Jean died a little inside.

"Eren…" He warned, through gritted teeth. He was not gonna take any shit from this cocky jerk, not today.

"Oh, and who's this? Playing the blushing virgin again, are we?" Eren teased. He stood at their table, grinning smugly while eyeing Marco up. Marco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face a call for help from Jean.

"I didn't ask for this today, Eren. Please, just for once, take your head out of your arse and just serve us drinks." Jean muttered, mentally cursing the waiter to the depths of Hades. Why, why did Marco have to choose the one place where the living proof of the most embarrassing night of his life worked?

Eren smirked at them, "So horse face, what would you and freckles like to drink?"

Jean cursed him silently, looking to Marco for help. His date, leafed through the menu focusing intently on the wide range of hot chocolate. Eyes shining with a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment, while Jean was certain he would die any moment from mortification.  
"Just a coconut hot chocolate for me." Marco ordered, saving Jean from steaming in his embarrassment and reminding him to order, not before Eren got a quip in.  
"Obvious who bottoms here" Eren snickered, while Jean choked on his words.

"One Cappuccino." Jean grit out, his face flushed red and glancing frantically at marco to see his reaction.  
"Oh what's wrong Jeanny-boy? Virgin got your tongue?" Satisfied with his tormenting, Eren sauntered off to serve other customers, leaving Jean and Marco alone once more at the table.

"It's been ages since I last had one of those. Honestly, coconut hot chocolate is the best." Marco said.

"Really though? Like, those flavours don't seem like they'd go together that well, y'know?"

Marco made a face of mock offendedness.

"How dare you sir! I'll have you know that these two flavours are the ! They are the reason that the measly remainder of my faith in humanity somehow is still intact!"

Jean laughed, and felt himself beginning to relax. This kind of playful, meaningless chat was new to him.

"Well, perhaps if it's that good, maybe it can help restore mine. But hey, please give my poor some credit here. I mean, can your girly freu freu drink wake you up after an allnighter?" He paused, "Isn't that thing way too sweet?"

Marco scoffed playfully at him, "Not like yours is better. It's like drinking soap!"

Jean pursed his lips, mocking: "Aw is someone not grown up enough to have his adult drinks?: he cooed.

"Uh, we'll see. Look, they're coming now." Marco pointed out, as a waiter (not Eren, to Jean's extreme relief) brought their drinks over to the table. As the waiter set them down, Marco winked. "Hope you enjoy your soapy £5 worth of blandness(hmm that was weak we can change that but then maybe Marco's really crap at insults?)!"

Jean took a sip of his drink, and retaliated: "Oh come on, have you even tried this? It's heaven in a cup! How do you expect to bring any boys to your yard with that milkshake?"

"Yeah, right. You haven't even tried this!"

"Well, I wouldn't want our 'date' to be ruined by your girly soapwater." Marco teased. Jean bit his lip, trying to think of a clever retort while the word 'date' whirled around his brain, making his stomach drop nervously. So this was definitely a date? Or was he just teasing him?

"If you're so eager to prove me wrong, then go ahead. Try it." He said, blushing a little as he pushed the mug towards his 'date'. Jean had a horrible feeling that he was going too far with this, but Marco, cheerful as ever, took the drink and tried a sip.

"It's just…" He giggled, "It's just foam! Jean, I'm a little disappointed. My faith in humanity is not being overwhelmingly restored."

"Well," Jean spluttered reaching over to take Marco's hot chocolate, " I highly doubt that yours is any better." he declared. Marco nodded at him, amused, encouraging him to try the 'delight' he was holding. Jean picked up the cup taking a small sip. It was surprisingly nice, the rich flavour of the chocolate mixing nicely with the coconut, the added sweetness from the molten marshmallow being the cherry on top.

"Not bad…" he muttered, schooling his face into mild disgust, while Marco gave him a disbelieving look.

"Is that it? Not bad?" Marco demanded, "Did you just insult the culinary delight?"

Jean held his hands up in surrender, "It was okay, but that's it. No culinary delights to be found here."

Marco wrinkled his nose, leaning across the table so he was a few inches away from Jean. "You know what? I don't think I can date someone who doesn't like hot chocolate."

Jean jerked back at this, staring at Marco uncomprehendingly. "Y-you what?" He questioned. "You know it really was okay, I mean maybe even pretty good, yeah it was delici-" he rambled until he heard Marco's soft laughter.

"I knew I would get you to admit it."

Jean had a feeling he'd admitted more than just that he liked the drink there, but smiled and replied:

"Okay, you got me, that was a damn good drink. You win." He rubbed the back of his neck, and chuckled. Damn, had he been staring at Marco again? How he was going to be able to keep from gazing adoringly into those eyes every time he saw him, Jean had no idea.

"Uh, Jean?"

"Yeah?"

Marco hesitated nervously, before saying: "Look… look at that tree. The one outside the window."

Jean turned around, his eyes widening.

**And there, clearer than ever before, was a tree covered in every shade of green his eyes had never even dreamed of seeing before he'd met Marco. Best of all, Marco was here to see it with him.**


	4. Chapter 4

Jean couldn't tear his eyes away from the tree. It wasn't a particularly remarkable tree, just a normal- what, an oak? A pine? He had no idea. Other customers were turning around too, wondering what he and his date were staring at. Jean turned back around, beaming at Marco. _This is it,_ he thought. _I'm not mad. This is actually happening._

"It's… so beautiful." He mumbled, not bothering to hide his awe. "The-the colour, I mean. Green, right? It's just a tree, but…" He trailed off, knowing for once that they were thinking the same thing.

"So you do see it too. I thought I was hallucinating at first, honestly." Marco admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

Jean paused, "Hey, If this tree is like this- " he began, his eyes flitting over to meet Marco's again.

Marco nodded vigorously, draining the last of his hot chocolate and shoving a $5 bill on the table. "We'll have to find out."

Jean followed suit, ruffling through his wallet for the right money, as Marco stood impatiently. "Jeaaan" he almost whined when Jean had dropped the wallet, spilling its contents. Marco put down another note from his own wallet (neatly organised so that he wouldn't have this problem). "You can pay me back later."

Jean scrambled after his coffee voucher, before following Marco out the door. He grinned to himself, exalted, now that it finally sank in. That they really were bringing colour to each other's lives, that it wasn't one sided. He sped up his pace, so he was level with his freckled date, who looked at him before, with a smirk, taking his hand. Jean screamed internally. How could Marco be so confident? He awkwardly looked (slightly up) at him, awestruck and blushing. Marco's knowing grin grew wider as he walked, saying nothing. He couldn't, however, hide the blushing.

"Marco…" Jean mumbled.

"Yesss, Jean?"

"Uhh… you're holding my hand."

He giggled. "I am? I didn't realise. You want me to stop?"

Jean fidgeted anxiously. Of course he wanted to be with the boy, but was it really okay to go so far on a first date? Remembering the night with Eren, he supposed that he had gone a lot further than handholding at this point, in the past. But this was… different. Very different. Unlike with Eren, he wanted this to turn out right. It was the kind of relationship that he wanted to last forever, even though they'd only met oh-so-recently.

"N-no. It's just new, I guess." He stammered out.

Marco let go of his hand, Jean beginning to protest, before he was poked in the side playfully. He squirmed slightly, his ticklishness always a weakness, and glared at Marco lightly swatting him. Of course he immediately regretted-not-regretted this, as Marco only caught his hand, holding it again.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, gait light and the mood pleasant.

"All the trees around us aren't green, they're just the same…." The tentative statement out of the blue, made Jean look around. He had been so overwhelmed by the hand holding he hadn't noticed.

"Maybe it's because they're not important, maybe we just have to wait." he spoke reassuringly, squeezing Marco's hand, trying to convince himself just as much.

"Yeah, maybe."

They walked in comfortable silence for a minute, both in their own worlds but still with one another. Jean's mind drifted as he wondered why certain colours had appeared, when others hadn't, and why Marco had triggered that. Wasn't everything supposed to stay the same shade of routine depressed grey, wasn't it supposed to not get better? He had hit a low point in high school, and assumed that he had discovered reality, had finally realised what a monotonous life it was. And, damn it, he could almost get used to it. Almost. So what was happening to him now?

Jean's thoughts were interrupted by a giggle from Marco.

"Jean… I just realised… Where the hell are we going?"

Jean glanced around briefly, taking in the rising concrete walls around them, like an urban maze. The grey concrete was stained with Black spray, some in elaborate designs, painted over each other and others like the smashed cans littering the ground were like an explosion of anger. He let go of Marco's hand, wanting to find the one artwork that he hoped would be there.

"Where are you going?" Marco called in a slightly anxious voice, "Do you know where we are?"

"Mhm, this place… well I found it helpful to come here a while ago" He omitted of course the real reason and just waved for Marco to follow. The freckled boy shrugged and hurried to catch up with Jean, trying to hide his discomfort.

"I'm sorry, I've never really… hung out in places like these…" Hesitantly, Marco told him.

Jean just inclined his head, knowing full well that Marco came from a far richer background. It was obvious to him, just from the clothes he wore and even his manner differentiated them.

"Don't worry. It's… more special than it looks."

Jean was throwing caution to the wind at this point, leading Marco further down the alley. It wasn't dark or anything, and he knew his way around easily. Still, his date fidgeted nervously.

"There. On the wall." Jean pointed out, gesturing to the wall on their left. Marco looked up.

"Huh?"

"Oh right, I forgot. It's kinda hard to make out at first. Look harder, and you'll notice."

Marco squinted. His freckles blurred together when he scrunched up his face like that, Jean couldn't help noticing.

"See it?"

"It's… a tree. All of it." His eyes lit up, amazed by what he'd been walking past all this time without noticing. Jean watched his pupils trace the graffiti- but it wasn't the graffiti they were looking at. It was the gaps in between the meaningless scrawls and scribbles, the tendrils and winding branches that wove between each tag. The tree reached across the entire wall, branches grasping right into the shadowy corners, with leaves of dust and roots of litter.

Jean walked up to one winding branch tracing his fingers along it, frowning at the graffiti, covering the special design.

"I used to come here a lot," he admitted with a slight smile, "It's really like finding beauty in a dark place, something that's always been there, but you just never see it y'know?"

Marco, still looking in amazement at the swirling design, had come closer, reaching out his hand to place it over Jean's. He glanced at the tree once more, watching the strong trunk split into branches when he noticed.

"Jean, Jean! Look!"

At the bottom of the tree, like a new seedling filling the shadow of its ancestor, a small sprout painted the graffiti green and like new life... it grew. First a young sapling, tiny leaves unfurling from the branches that were no thicker than a flower's stem. Then a young tree, the branches stretching into the places, reaching between the grafitti, testing it like a child about to jump in the water. The tree crept upwards, appearing to be nothing more than a shadow as it grew more and more, slowly filling up the spaces left by the unattractive scrawls that littered the alleyway.

Neither of them spoke as this happened.

They were too busy caught in each other's colour-filled gaze as they kissed, oblivious to the branches spiralling out behind their backs.

On a side and very happy note, the two co-writers of this are now together. Cheers, queers! ;) 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

His eyes followed the ancient fan above him, the whizzing increasing as it finally began to create some breeze. The sounds of the party that Reiner had thrown, bled in even through the closed door. He grunted, his thin fingers undoing the knotted, white cord of his headphones, 30 Seconds to Mars faintly playing from them. He pulled them undone and slipped them in, the music blocking out the rest of the world, and smiled. Today had been… so much better than expected.

The two had separated after they'd made it back to Marco's place, saying goodbye with a tentative kiss. Jean sighed as he remembered the feel of the boy's lips against his own. Neither of them had seemed to know what they were doing but it still felt right. It felt like something he had never experienced with another boy. Butterflies still swarmed in his stomach from it as he slumped onto the sofa, absentmindedly flicking through social media on his phone. Nothing new to report there. His thoughts flickered back to their kiss, it had been amazing and beautiful, but the place nagged at him.

Today, he had seen it in a new light, a new memory to add, but every other time he had hung out there, loomed over it.

The music still blared, music that he had used to cope, just like he had used that place. Even now he hesitated to bring it up, shame stopping him. He had been told over and over that there was no reason for him to be depressed and he knew it. Still, it didn't prevent the symptoms from clinging to him, slowly becoming a major part of his life. He found his home, and later his dorm stifling, with the latter, people constantly surrounding him. So he escaped. He didn't run away of course, knowing fully well how idiotic that would be, instead he spent his time alone, exploring the hidden parts of the city, until one time he had gotten lost, just like with Marco, he found the place. After that, every time he found himself feeling lost, he rediscovered that place. Time and time again, he wandered down there, to the only place he could go to when getting out of bed felt too hard. The place he could get out of bed to go to. But still, it had only ever been a brick wall. Jean had been kept going by a pile of bricks. How sad was that? He didn't care, he just needed to carry on. Just needed to hold out until… until what? He could see colour? No, that was completely out of the left wing. In hindsight, Jean realised that he had no idea what he was hoping for. The happy ending he had dreamed of, as a child had faded a long time ago, and his optimism left without a single glance back, when his depression set in. Only recently, he had collected himself, his depression not quite going but kept at bay by his insistent efforts. He stopped wandering, began socialising and resumed his life as normal, to the outsider at least. Jean supposed, that this entire time he'd been slowly losing his grip on this hope, the chance of finding whatever it was, seemed slimmer, like grasping at sand.

And yet, somehow, he had found it.

He sat up abruptly, at the sharp knock on his door, yanking out his headphones, the music still audible. "Who is it?" he called tiredly. The door burst open (hadn't he locked it?) and Reiner's burly figure burst in, sweaty and flushed. Jean wrinkled his nose in disgust, noting the faint smell of alcohol that trailed in with Reiner. His large and clammy hand seized his arm, hoisting him up and off the bed. "Reiner-" Jean began, but was just dragged to and out his own door.

"Don't thank me, it was Bert's idea to drag you along. I'm doing your unsociable emo ass a favour!" He sneered, making it clear that Jean had no choice but to come along. As an afterthought to this realisation, Jean grabbed his phone before dragging his heels away from his room and off to whatever dumb party Reiner was taking him to.

"Reiner- stop- let go!" he complained, through gritted teeth. Stubborn as Jean was, he would've at least liked to make it to the party on his own two feet rather than being basically carried there by the older boy's considerable strength. However, Reiner wasn't listening to a word of it in his drunken state.

"C'mon, horseface, we've got a party to get to in the next dorm along. Stop dragging your heels!"

Jean didn't even care enough to be indignant. He simply folded his arms and resigned himself to his fate.

Even from outside he could hear the noises of the 'great' party that was happening, the one he was getting literally dragged into. It's not that he disliked parties, some would call him quite the party animal, but tonight he really wasn't in the mood. As if Reiner sensed his doubts about the party, he grabbed Jean, shoving him in a joking headlock, one hand messing his hair up.  
"Jeanny-boy why the long face?" he cheerfully scoffed, before continuing the drag, in… a rather uncomfortable position. "Nothing some alcohol can't fix."

Now, after his previous experience with alcohol, Jean was positive that he most certainly did not want to be 'fixed' by the (probably spiked) paper cups being passed from hand to hand all around him. However, to humour Reiner, he grabbed one, located the kitchen, and filled it up with tap water so that he could at least pretend to be drinking vodka or whatever. The lights were too dim to tell, anyway. So were the people, Jean thought snidely. He didn't envy whoever had to clean up after this pack of wild animals that were drunkenly… well, whatever they were doing, it was always being done drunkenly. He took a seat and amused himself for a while by observing the overwhelming drunkenness of the party, feeling rather superior. When this grew boring, he pulled out his phone, mentally blessing whatever instinct made him pick it up. He flicked through his apps, hovering over his latest game obsession: Circle. He never got the chance to decide whether this was how he would spend the rest of his night, when it buzzed in his hand and Jean, all ready to ignore whoever it was, saw that it was from Marco.  
'Hi'

Two letters. Still, he had texted first, meaning it would be perfectly alright to answer with a similar, three letter 'hey'. He typed it in, waiting a moment before sending it through.

':( guess you don't want to talk' came the reply, making Jean jump in his hurry to reassure Marco that this wasn't so.

'No, No! I do!'

'Haha I know, just messing around. What are u up to?'

'Stuck at a party :/ Wish you were here.'

'Me too… I'm at a dinner with my parents. Fancy business things :P'

'Oh really?' Jean kept forgetting that Marco was, well… rich.

'Yeah, it sucks though. Hey so I had a really good time today :D'

"same! ugh now i've got all this studying i was supposed 2 do yesterday though.. not your fault, mine."

"poor u. what's it on?"

Jean strained to remember. He'd barely even glanced at half of his assignments before giving up.

"Uh, cell structure… also mitochondria."

"Ouch. that's tough, but if you wanted… I could help you? If you wanted, y'know…"

He grinned. "Are you sure? Cuz this is some hardcore public school shit."

"Ouch! I'm sure I'll manage. After all, I didn't attend Stohess high for nothing."

Stohess high was one of the poshest schools around. Not that he judged Marco for it, but… wow. You didn't go there if you weren't gonna grow up to be some CEO or lawyer or whatever.

"In that case, yeah, I could probably use some help." He admitted.

"I'll come by at 12?"

"U don't even know where I live you creep :P" Jean texted back, 'the teasing tide turns' he thought with a smirk.

"Ah no, I just assumed u'd be living at Trost dorms, since thats where you go..."

"Good guess? But that'd b good :)"

"Ur welcome btw"

"Don't be a shit, thanks though" Jean grumbled to himself, not wanting to sound like an ungrateful brat, 'like Jaeger' he scoffed.

"Thanks though? wow Jean." Shit. Did he end up offending him anyway?

"Ah I'm sorry dude"

"You keep getting worse... "

"No! I'm really sorry I didn't mean too!"

"Wrong 'too' and maybe its better if I don't come over tomorrow... " Well. This was getting bad.

"No really Marco, I'm an idiot I'm really grateful for your help, I'm sorry"

":D :D :D :D XD Just teasing. Nice to know though :P"

"What- that's not fair!"

"Hehe, I didn't think you'd take it that seriously."

"Marco. You complete arse! XD"

"Oh, I'm soooooorrrryy Jean… you're just so easy to tease :P"

Jean scowled, secretly relieved that their conversation had descended into the usual banter. He typed his reply, oblivious to the party that was gradually spiralling out of control around him.

"And you're still an arse."

"An arse you kissed ;)"

"Oh my god shut up X)"

He leant his head on the wall behind him, grinning in anticipation of whatever reply he'd receive. The music was giving Jean a headache, eurotrash pounding non-stop through his head ever since he'd arrived. Wondering if there was anywhere he could go that didn't come with a need for ear surgery, he tried to peer around the mass of drunken dancers that crowded his vision. He considered his chances of an escape, trying to calculate the best path through the swirling lights. He stood up, ready to weave through the people littering the floor (nothing more than trash right now anyway), when one of the lights swept across him, blinding him with a dash of colour. The… vibrant blue colour dazed him and he stood, shocked for a minute. Enough time apparently for Reiner (the idiot had gotten even more drunk if possible) to stagger over and take his phone.

"Hey! Drunkard return my phone!" Jean growled, irritated and worried because his conversation with Marco was on there ok. Apparently, Reiner was a mind reader because he headed straight for his messages.

"An arse you kissed?" He slurred, chortling, "what's this Jean?" His burly friend, now demoted to an acquaintance, was unfortunately superior in height and strength to Jean and as much as he hated to admit it, kept the phone out of his reach with few problems. "Oh what's this?" he mocked, 'I'll come by at twelve?' he snickered. A small, but interested herd of onlookers drew around them and, as if spurred by the presence of the crowd, he called out, a large grin plastered to his face, "Well, well, well it seems Jeanny-boy here has his girlfriend coming over tomorrow, who says we give her a surprise?"

Jean gritted his teeth.

"Give. Me. The PHONE, REINER."

Reiner just laughed, glad to see that he was getting to him.

"YOU TITANIC ARSEHOLE. GIVE IT." He yelled, making a snatch for his phone. They were attracting a fair bit of attention now. Jean internally cursed his uncanny knack for causing arguments. Still, this one was Reiner's fault.

"Ooh, what're you gonna do? Tell your girlfriend on me? Or… perhaps I could tell her for you?" He smirked, motioning like he was about to text Marco.

"NO! And… and for your information, HE'S MY BOYFRIEND OKAY?"

Had he really just said that? Jean felt weird, finally saying it-before realising how much weirder it was that he had just completely outed himself in front of… well, everybody.

It's fine, he reminded himself. By tomorrow, none of these idiots will remember a thing. Including Reiner, who was currently spluttering with laughter. He was surprised Reiner could still stand, much less read with the number of drinks he saw him down.

"Okay, you've had your fun asshole give. It. Back." Jean growled, snatching at the phone.

"Alright Horseface here you go!" Reiner proclaimed, through his laughter, handing the phone back. "See you at 12"


	6. Chapter 6

He was a nervous wreck, his hands trembling as he snapped at Reiner's ridiculous texts.

He had hoped that the idiots were too intoxicated to even remember what had happened the night before, but clearly luck wasn't on his side. He clenched his phone, as it vibrated once more, signalling yet another text from Reiner.  
'Hi love, just wondering if I should bring roses? 3 u' Wow, very creative Reiner. He just hoped he wouldn't show up at his door, like he kept promising. He doubted that sending threats would improve the situation either, most likely only entice the muscle head further. Jean was out of options. He couldn't cancel Marco's visit, then he'd have to explain the whole situation with him admitting that Marco was his boyfriend, and ugh, that was a step too far. He also could see no way of stopping Reiner from showing up and pulling whatever (completely hilarious, original, and non-arsehole-ish) crap he was planning. Over the past few hours of the morning Jean had tried ignoring the texts, taking the moral highground, the moral lowground, making sarcastic comments and even pleading. None had had any effect. Why did this guy have to be so bent on ruining his date? It was just a prank, nothing actually homophobic or whatever, but still.

Throwing the phone back onto his bed, Jean sighed. He'd just have to prepare for Marco's visit as he normally would and… hope for the best.

He fidgeted for a bit, wondering if he should change his clothes, or make it look like he had started working, but he couldn't really bring himself to pretend. Sure, he had only known Marco for a bit, but he really didn't want to fuck this one up. Eventually he just settled for sitting on the couch, flipping through channels uselessly, not really paying any attention, eyes tracking the clock as it neared 12. At 11:59, he was ready to jump up and wait at the door anxiously, for either Marco or Reiner to turn up. At 12:00 there was still no one at the door, and he forced himself to relax again. Almost when he was about to plant his butt back on the couch, there was a knock on the door. "Coming!" he called, hoping that it was Marco as he pulled the door open. A smile cracked the tension on his face when it he saw that it was the freckled boy who stood in front of him, arms loaded with notebooks probably filled with Bio notes. Right, they were supposed to study…

"Hi Jean!" he grinned, cheerfully waving a notebook, apparently more enthusiastic about studying than Jean ever was. Still, studying wasn't exactly the only thing on Jean's mind.

"Marco, it's- uh, hi! Hi." He replied, trying to focus on actually talking like a normal human being without blushing himself into surgery (sorry but I had to use that line XD).

Relieved of the awkward do-we-hug-or-kiss-or-shake-hands-or-what moment by the mass of books Marco was clutching that rendered all of the above impossible, he led the boy through the shared hallway into his pitifully small lounge.

"You sure seem prepared. How many books are even necessary?" Jean said as they sat down.

"I just brought all the ones I thought would be useful. I studied cell structure last year… oh, and the year before, so I've got quite a lot."

He bit his lip uncomfortably as he remembered exactly how little he'd listened in class when they were actually supposed to be learning this stuff. Was this date just going to be Jean making himself look dumb in front of this academically advanced brainiac? Was he overthinking things? He looked over at Marco, who seemed to be busy rifling through books and notes, loose sheets beginning to litter the floor. Damn that was a lot of information. Still he had to remember that this was about him passing Biology, not staring at the cute boy.

He cleared his throat, "So uh- where do we start?"

"By testing what you know of course," The freckled boy answered simply, unaware of the ball of dread that Jean felt like he just swallowed.  
"Uh maybe some review first.." he trailed off, knowing he would make a fool out of himself.

Marco cocked his head, questioning why Jean would be questioning him.

"Well uh," his phone buzzed, "let me just check that!" He pulled the phone out of his pocket, looking at the message. Fuck. It was from Reiner. Marco, full of curiosity leaned over to see.  
'Sorry love, will be late. Don't worry special surprise instead!' the message read and Jean hurriedly turned off his screen. Too late.

"And who was that? Love," Marco teased, ignoring the flicker of jealousy, "Are you cheating on me?"

Jean nearly died. Out of all of the way Reiner could have interfered with his date…

"He's not being serious! That's just… oh man how do I explain this…" he stuttered, trying to evade telling Marco about what he told Reiner.

"Um, Jean? Whatever you're about to say… can it please be the truth?"

He said this with a weary smile, but somehow wasn't angry. Like he knew that Jean wasn't really cheating.

"Shit. Okay, look. I was at this party, that I got dragged along to… and bear with me! I swear, this is not cheating! I was at this party and this guy Reiner stole my phone, and- and he stole my phone…" Jean stumbled over his words, desperate to explain. "He saw the texts. From you, I mean. And let me tell you, he's a total arsehole. So I guess he's just teasing me now, because I told him… that, y'know…"

Marco smiled knowingly.

"That you had a boyfriend?"

"H-how did you know? That I said that?" he exclaimed, blushing as the truth came out.

"Jean, it's kind of obvious. Don't be offended, but I can read you like a book." His comforting smile was enough to restore world peace in Jean's eyes at that moment. "Hey, stop blushing. It's okay, I think it's… cute."

"Well… um, ugh!" He exclaimed, covering his face with his hands. "Why do you always do this!" He gestured around vaguely, his cheeks still burning.

Marco stared at him for a moment, before he cracked up, imitating Jean's own gesture. "Noo stop that!" Jean groaned, unable to stop the grin breaking out.

"No but seriously…" Marco squeezed out in between bouts, "what the fuck was that?" he wheezed, the gesture becoming more exaggerated with each repeat.

"I- I don't know! Shut up." Jean shoved Marco, the freckled boy toppling off the couch with a yell and a- crap- hand grabbing him.

"You're going down with me!" he shouted victoriously, pulling Jean right off the couch.

Jean scowled playfully, barely able to keep the grin from his face.

"Shut up, freckles." He teased. "That was so your fault."

Marco winked. "So what?"

He shut him up by rolling over so that Marco was on top, both of them squished uncomfortably between cushions.

"Heyyy!" Marco shouted, jabbing a hand into Jean's side.

He smirked. "Marco, are you trying to tickle me?"

"No. Maybe. But it's not working, dammit!" He complained, squeezing a hand between his neck and shoulder, to no avail.

"Ha. Maybe if I just…"

Jean lightly poked the freckled boy's waist. Marco fell to pieces.

"PLEASE J-Jean- no.." he was cut off by his own fit of outrageous giggling, as Jean pounced and began to mercilessly tickle him. "AHH S-T-OPP gnnHAHAAA HA-HAVE MERCY!" He squealed.

Jean grinned, and shifted nervously beneath the boy. To say he wasn't a little turned on would be a lie. He laughed softly, catching Marco attempting to control his laughter and death glare him simultaneously. "Okay okay truce. But you totally deserved that."

"No I- hah- didn't! No one deserves that kind of torture." Marco whined, clutching his sides and pouting.

"Did too!" Jean teased, smirking at Marco.

"Oh shut up!" Marco silenced him with a kiss. Jean smiled, kissing the boy back, perfectly at ease and happy. Happiness only lasts so long he supposed, when Marco pulled away, and staring at him with a devilish grin, uttered the word.

"Biology."


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry Guys, It's a mini chapter, but next chapter will be coming soon. _

Jean dawdled around the door, waiting for Marco to get that textbook he forgot. It was already 5 pm and they had wasted (at least Jean counted it a waste) the day studying. Maybe some cuddling and tickling. And making out. Yeah, lots of that. Perhaps it wasn't a wasted day after all. Marco returned to the front door, his stack of textbooks balanced on one hand and jacket clutched in the other. Jean busied himself unlocking the door, as to avoid the awkward staring at the unfairly attractive boy that he knew would happen otherwise.

"So I'll be going now.." Marco reminded him.

"Oh yeah of course." Jean smiled and pulled the boy into a kiss. "See you freckles."

"See you honey."

"Shut up! Oh yeah um." Marco paused, waiting.

"Do you maybe want to walk home together sometime next week?"

"Sure thing!" Marco smiled brightly, "Monday?"

Jean nodded. "Monday."

He pulled Marco into a hug, balling his fists into the comfy material of his hoodie.

"I'll be at the main Trost campus gates. See you then?"

"Uhuh." Marco grinned. "Okay bye. For real this time."

He snatched one last kiss, and left.

Jean stared at the closed door for a while, a grin plastered on his face, not really seeing the cheap white material it was made of. He wondered if things would change. Sure everytime he saw Marco he would need to constantly remind himself to speak and not get lost in his warm, hazel eyes. Glimpses of other things, he supposed- the plant in the cafe, the tree on the graffiti wall, the flower on his homescreen, but was he going to live there when he couldn't see Marco, more so he didn't even know if the colour was still there. He fidgeted in his jean (haha, that could almost be a pun) pocket trying to find his phone before realising it may have fallen out in his… tickle fight. Yeah. Jean's mind was preoccupied with the memories of today, unable to stop himself from grinning to himself-until he turned around.

For when he turned around, he couldn't see his bland, monotonous apartment anymore. All he could see was the colour that that beautiful freckled boy had brought to it all.


	8. Chapter 8

Jean sighed, and slammed his head against his desk. Maybe if he could hit just the right area of his brain with just the right amount of force, he could knock himself out and get out of this stupid lesson. But he'd have to wake up in time to see Marco, of course.

Wistful thinking aside, he couldn't help watching the clock during every lesson, kept awake by the thoughts of how much survival today would be worth it when he was greeted by Marco after 6th period. Jean was, to put it one way, drowning in Monday Vibes. As if Monday Vibes weren't enough and life hated him especially that day, he was forced to leave his comforting- and now colourful apartment to spend a day in this black and white hellhole. Every weekday from now on. When it was just a flash of the odd thing, he had… he had been in amazement of it, but now that he had spent a day, locked in his room on his (kinda hideous) orange couch, not that he was complaining because still. Colour! He was itching to get to Marco to tell him about it and to see those warm hazel eyes, his comfort in this greyscale city. The arrow crawled around the clock, the teacher's blabber going in one ear and out the other. Ever so slowly as it was going, time was still passing.

Three more lessons to go. Two more lessons to go. One more. Just half a lesson left. And then… Jean would be free to go.

He had shoved his things into the backpack a good while before class even ended, and as the minutes ticked down he sat ready, on the balls of his feet, so that he could dash for the door the moment that god-awful bell rang. 3...2...1… he counted down, knowing that the only useful thing he had done this day was calibrate his watch perfectly to the school bell.

The awful ringing had barely begun before Jean grabbed his bag, stuck a mental middle finger up to the whole 'the bell doesn't tell you when to leave, I do' attitude, and ran. He was the first out, and so for once was free of the usual crowds he was met with in the school's too-narrow corridors. By the time he made it outside (in a fraction of the time it normally took him- Jean made a mental note to sprint from class more often), he found himself a little out of breath. One more minute in that stuffy old classroom would have literally driven him to insanity. He spun around, not caring that people were beginning to come out and here he was spinning on the spot. He just had to find that one figure. Ah. He had started walking toward him before the thought even finished. There was his freckled boyfriend, leaning against a section of the brick wall, hiding in the shadows. He was looking up at the sky. "M-Marco!" Strangely enough Jean was out of breath again. The boy turned to him, a cross of his usual beaming smile and a more thoughtful expression.

"The sky is grey today." were his first words and Jean halted. Then the grin fully took over. "Sorry, was just thinking. Hi."

"Yeah, not a problem, listen Marco the most amazing thing happened." Jean began, the words gushing out, the plug seemingly lost.

Marco smiled, as though there was nothing in the world he would rather hear than what Jean had to say. He gulped- that was definitely new.

"Dude- my apartment! It's, it's colourful! And it's not just the walls or whatever, it's everything!" He grinned, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Jean, that's-" Marco began, before seeming to decide that a kiss would be a better way of getting his point across. It wasn't fervent, but it didn't need to be. Just loving and tender.

Jean pulled away, admiring the way the sunlight turned Marco's eyes into little hazel prisms, glittering with colour.

And then it slipped out.

"I love you, Marco."

Marco, just pulled him into another kiss, just as soft as the previous. They parted lips, still close enough to almost touch and Marco breathed back,

"I love you too, Jean.'

And then it poured.

They ran through the rain, soaked to the bone within seconds hair plastered to their foreheads, but their eyes shone and the matching grins were radiant. 'I love you's were mumbled, between huffing for air amidst the laughter that bubbled out. The rain didn't ease up, as if the sky was angry at having to relinquish it's monotonous tinge, but around them, bright spots of yellow and red appeared as people whipped out their umbrellas to shield themselves from the rain. They kept running, God only knows where, Jean pondered amidst the mess of colours around him and Marco's still warm hand in his own.

They laughed as they ran, all that needed to be said could wait. Right now, they were beating their love for each other into the rain-spattered pavement through their soaking wet trainers, like a heartbeat. No words could've summed that euphoria up. (evidently!) Crossings flew by; Jean's heart skipped a beat as he ran blindly into the road, still clutching Marco's hand for dear life, but road safety was the last thing that mattered now. All that was real was him, the rain, and the boy with the freckles- drenching the world with colour, beautiful colour.

He stumbled, when Marco pulled him over, under the shelter of a garish gazebo, hating and loving the fluro pink. He turned to Marco, caught awestruck, the hazel eyes were still there and just as warm and beautiful as always, but around them two spots of colour stained the boy's cream skin, his scattering of freckles, a lovely brown.  
"W-Wow." He stuttered out, hands automatically grabbing onto his probably-colourful-but-he-didn't-want-to-look-away shirt, pulling him closer. He supposed, that the way Marco was looking at him now, pure adoration and love was mirrored in his own eyes. Jean lingered there for a second, making sure that this moment stayed in his memory forever. But he couldn't hold on much longer. Still clutching Marco's shirt, he pulled him into a kiss, fully aware of the hilarious cliche-ness of the whole thing. Up this close, he could see the way the raindrops lingered on his eyelashes.

How long they stayed there, Jean had no idea. It could've been seconds, minutes, days… this was his lucky break. This was what all the shit in his life had been worth sticking through for. This was his (ugh I can't remember the word but I'll shove something in there later or you can if you can think of something accurate). And if Marco didn't feel the same, then… then he sure as hell wasn't acting like it. He was kissing him more passionately than ever before, as though his life depended on it. Jean fell even harder in love. Literally. And with the way their bodies were pressed together, he was pretty sure Marco could feel that… hardness… too.

Awkward boners aside, this really was amazing, standing together with the person he loved, surrounded by colour. Jean finally felt like maybe his life more or less fell together, and it was thanks to Marco. His eyes fluttered open and he broke the kiss, admiring Marco, and the way his soft pink lips turned a darker shade, a light flush on his cheeks. He was so beautiful.


	9. Goodbye

**Then, suddenly, everything was over between the two lovers. He had made too many mistakes, none of them reversible. His heart ached but there was nothing he could do. This was for the best. Or was it? He had no idea. He had leaped blindly into Marco's crazy world, not opening his eyes to how hard it would be to stay there for fear of seeing what he knew deep down to be true. They could never be together, not really. So why keep his eyes closed and pretend that everything would be okay? Better to hit the ground now, than fall even further in love and have it hurt more. Jean didn't know whether this made sense to Marco. It didn't even make much sense to him. All he cared about was that Marco would be okay afterwards, and that he wouldn't blame himself. That Sasha and Connie would be understanding, and help Marco get over it in a way that only friends can, that Jean couldn't. If he tried to just be friends with the freckled boy, he would only find himself falling in love again and again. This was for the best.**

**The end.**

Things happened. This story will never be finished. Maybe re-written, but it will never be the same.  
I hope you enjoyed it.


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